


Counseling Does Wonders

by Kryptaria, rayvanfox



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Completely out of character use of Victor's name, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Days of Future Past Family Counseling and Therapy Center?” Logan read, eyebrows climbing to his unkempt hair in shock. “What the hell kinda name is this?”</p><p>A Valentine's Day gift ficlet to all our wonderful readers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counseling Does Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how _Days of Future Past_ was about Charles and Erik needing marital help, and Logan proved to be a really crappy  
>  marriage counselor? That was the plot of the movie, right? Right!
> 
> Eternal thanks to our betas, littlerosetrove, neverwhere, swimmingfrug, thesecretbeta, and zephyrfox!

“Days of Future Past Family Counseling and Therapy Center?” Logan read, eyebrows climbing to his unkempt hair in shock. “What the hell kinda name is this?”

His half-brother, Victor, shrugged. “Who we are now is the sum of our experiences in the past. Awareness of the past allows us to build —”

“Don’t go all psycho-babble on me. It’s a shit name. It doesn’t even have a decent acronym. Dofp cat? Sounds like fake German,” Logan said as he took a cigar from his shirt pocket.

Fast as lightning, Victor reached across the corner of the coffee table and snatched the cigar from Logan’s fingers. “It’s a brilliant name. Resonated very well with focus groups.” He set the cigar down on the endtable out of Logan’s reach. “The doors open next week, but we’re having a cocktail party this Friday to celebrate. If you’d like to come, perhaps with a date...”

Neither of them wanted Logan at anything resembling a cocktail party, especially not a fancy one with suits and champagne and hors d'oeuvres that weren’t mini-hot dogs, but family was family. That meant Victor had to issue the invitation, just as it meant Logan had to say, “Sorry, bro. I already have a date.”

The fact that that “date” was a cage-fighting match didn’t come into it at all. A guy had to make money somehow. And somehow cage-fighting seemed a hell of a lot more honest than psychiatry.

 

~~~

 

The DOFPCAT Building, as Logan was calling it in his head, was scheduled to open in stages, as if the first doctors were a test run for the rest of them. Some of the doctors had started seeing patients a few days ago; the rest were opening on various days throughout the coming week. Logan supposed the schedule made sense to someone — just not him.

And either way, it gave him the chance to overcharge Victor for some off-the-books weekend help Victor needed. Usually data entry wasn’t Logan’s thing, but a little extra cash never hurt in the middle of the month. Besides, Valentine’s Day didn’t really get interesting for a single guy until the bars opened later this evening.

Plus, he had the run of Victor’s office, from the sleek auto-coffee-pod machine to the Xbox supposedly used in family therapy. Logan made a point of hiding his computer skills, so he wrapped the data entry work in just over an hour, then went right for the break room. Coffee and an afternoon of gaming, charged at thirty bucks an hour, sounded just right.

At least until Victor’s waiting room door banged open, carrying the sound of arguing voices. “You’re always so _inclusive_. We’re not catering to the masses. This is _our_ endeavor — one most people can’t even begin to comprehend.” Deep voice, hard-to-place accent. European, definitely, but too ephemeral for Logan to pin down a region. Sounded cultured. (Sounded like a dick, he thought.) Another doctor?

“So we _educate_ them, Erik. That’s the whole point, after all.” The second voice sounded amused, indulgent, and very posh British. It wasn’t as deep, but it definitely belonged to a man.

The first man — Erik? — let out a put-upon huff and asked, “Why don’t we invite the whole world, then? Throw open the doors. Let them all come and ruin what we’re trying to build.”

The second man sighed but responded mildly. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. There are certain populations that will thrive in the environment we are creating. Let’s just make sure we connect with _all_ of them.”

Whoever these two were, they were in the wrong place. And amusing as it was to eavesdrop on their bickering, they were cutting into Logan’s Xbox time. So he pushed open the office door and bared his teeth in a not-quite-smile as he took them in.

They were sitting on the same couch like a pair of opposites. One was tall and long-limbed, sharp everywhere, with a sharp smile and sharper eyes. The other looked like he’d just come from filming a remake of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, right down to the fuzzy cardigan and earnest, hopeful puppy dog eyes.

 _Married,_ Logan thought. They had that long-compatible domestic look. Or maybe they were engaged, and the bickering was over the wedding party.

“You —” was as far as he got before tall-and-lanky was up on his feet.

“Excellent. Tell him this is ridiculous.” That was the less posh, generic European voice, which meant Mr. Rogers was the Brit.

“Erik, that’s not how this works.” The Brit stood as well and walked over to Logan with a smile on his face and his hand outstretched. “Hello, I’m Charles—”

“Must we play through the whole charade?” Erik asked. He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing, and it made Logan dislike him even more. Not that he liked Professor Charlie any better.

Still, no reason not to needle the Eurotrash runway model wannabe. So Logan grinned and shook Charles’ hand, a little surprised that his handshake was firm and not all squishy with ink from fountain pens. He looked like that type.

“Logan.”

“Wonderful. Now that we’re all friends,” Erik said dryly as he pushed past them to go for the inner office, where Victor would one day start taking apart people’s brains. Logan let it happen only because he figured he could disassemble Erik, if push came to shove. Besides, these two might be more entertaining than the Xbox.

Charles ran his hand through his floppy hair and smiled apologetically, then gestured for Logan to precede him into the room. “Shall we?”

Logan stepped into the office and looked uncomfortably at the massive desk that Victor had brought over from his previous place, then at the fashionable sofas and armchairs. Erik was seated in one as if it were his throne. “Yeah, uh, you two —”

“See, Charles?” Erik cut in, gesturing towards Logan like a magician producing a surly rabbit out of a too-fashionable hat. “Even _he_ knows how ridiculous this all is. We run in rarefied circles. There’s absolutely nothing the public-at-large could _possibly_ contribute.”

“The ‘public-at-large’ doesn’t need us — only those for whom the system doesn’t work.” Charles sat down in the chair next to Erik and leaned toward him enough to invade his personal space. “And that includes both ‘gifted’ and ‘troubled’ youth.”

Oh, shit. These two were adopting? Logan opened his mouth to protest, but Erik scoffed, “Everyone’s ‘troubled’ in some way, Charles. If we don’t draw the line here and now, then where? You can’t mother-hen the world, no matter how much you’d enjoy the challenge.”

Who was that skinny woman... the one with children from all over the planet, like she was putting together a collection? Was Erik famous, like her, and looking to get celebrity street cred by adopting? But no, he looked like the type who needed all the PR help he could get, and it was Charles — Mr. Bring Home to Mom — who was looking for a challenge.

What the hell were these two up to?

Whatever was going on, it should be Victor, not Logan, behind the desk, but he sat down anyway and turned on the monitor. He’d just pull up Victor’s calendar and see if there was a crossed wire.

If anyone needed regular weekly marriage counseling, it was these two. Maybe twice-weekly.

Charles, who had winced at the ‘mother-hen’ line, massaged his temples for a moment before responding, “I’m happy to draw a line, but we both have to feel good about the outcome. Compromise is the key to any successful partnership. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

“Not really,” Logan answered honestly. “I mean, some, yeah, but too much compromise is like getting punched in the face, then asking for it again.”

Smiling generously, Charles explained, “That’s the act of conceding. I’m looking for mutual agreement, not —”

“Surrender?” Erik interrupted, his eyes locked to Charles’ face, grin bright and vicious. “Submission? Masochism?”

Charles scoffed a little too loudly and with a hint of a smile on his face. Logan just shrugged and said, “If that’s your thing, yeah.”

“Aren’t we getting slightly off track, here?” Charles turned his gaze on Logan with expectation in his eyes and something almost impish around his lips. Or maybe that was just how his mouth worked.

The combination of playful, reserved, and innocent had Logan ask, “Catholic, right?”

Charles’ brow furrowed for a moment before answering, “Church of Scotland, actually. No longer practicing. Why?”

“Close enough.” Logan turned to the rockstar wannabe and asked, “You?”

Both eyebrows shot up in perfect arches. He probably had them plucked or waxed or something. “Jewish,” he said curiously. “Also non-practicing.”

“Uh huh,” Logan said, putting the picture together in his mind. There was nothing in Victor’s calendar about these two, but maybe this was an emergency session. Or, hell, it was probably a _new_ session, since they didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t his brother. “Look, the whole ‘saving yourselves’ thing is all well and good, but you two have enough shit going on between you without having to worry about that, too.”

Charles’ eyebrows shot as high as Erik’s, and he looked over at his partner uncertainly before looking back at Logan. “I’m sorry, saving what?”

“Yourselves. I mean, you, at least —” Logan picked up the cigar he’d been saving and used it to point at Charles before realizing phallic metaphors probably weren’t professional. “You’re a virgin, right?”

Erik choked and lifted a hand to cover his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, maybe not to _everything_ , but you haven’t” — Logan hesitated — “sealed the deal. Right?”

Charles’ creamy complexion had gone blotchy with red. His cheeks especially were two bright patches as if they’d been slapped. He looked at Logan so intensely it felt as if he could reach inside Logan’s brain. “You have no right—” He exhaled slowly, and when he spoke again there was no longer any threat in his voice. “I fail to see what my sexual experience has to do with the matter at hand.”

“It has to do with you bringing _kids_ into this whole mess, when it might not even work. I mean, a repressed wannabe professor and a bratty rockstar with a submissive streak? You two are a bad romance novel waiting to happen. So just... go home and screw it out. If you don’t kill each other, _then_ you can talk marriage and kids.”

 _“Marriage?”_ Charles’ face contorted in outrage and confusion. “To...” He looked over at Erik helplessly.

“This whole counseling thing _was_ your idea,” Erik said with a shrug. _“Darling._ ”

“Oh, my God. Erik...” Charles’ blush spread to his ears, but the tiny grin was back. “I wanted _mediation._ You know how bad our fights can get.”

“Must be all that repressed sexual tension,” Erik said blandly. Charles just gawped at him like he had two heads.

“Yeah. So, go fuck it out of your systems and, uh” — Logan glanced at the monitor — “maybe come back on Monday?”

“I... No.” Charles was flustered and fidgety, but he managed to find that generous smile for Logan. “See, you’ve got it wrong. Erik, help me out here, please.”

Erik shifted forward and rose with a sinuously graceful movement that sparked all of Logan’s defensive instincts to life. Barely-contained threat crackled around Erik’s body, though his smile was probably the gentlest it had been since they’d shown up so unexpectedly. He crossed to stand in front of Charles’ armchair and braced his hands on the back of the chair, above Charles’ shoulders.

“Isn’t it a bit premature to be giving the orders? We should negotiate first,” Erik said in a low, inviting voice as he leaned down. _“Darling.”_

“Erik...” Charles’ voice wavered, and he sounded a little breathless. “This is not helping...”

Even if the man was an arrogant dick — and possibly a serial killer — Logan gave himself a few seconds to admire the lines of his body as he leaned down even closer. He whispered something in Charles’ ear, which elicited a strangled whimper.

With a satisfied smirk, Erik stood back up and smoothed his turtleneck. “I think this is a _much_ better plan than arguing all the time. Don’t you?” he asked, extending his hand, eyes locked to Charles’.

“It’s a little sudden...” Charles reached his hand to Erik’s as if under a spell, then looked past him to Logan and pulled back, chuckling as if embarrassed. “And a bit absurd, possibly?”

Logan couldn’t see Erik’s face, but his back went rigid, shoulders drawing up tight. “And not the purpose of this visit,” Erik said stiffly.

“No...” Charles’ tone was careful but his hand went out to Erik’s once more. “But perhaps we could discuss that in the car.”

Erik’s soft response was lost under Logan’s, “Bad idea, guys.” When they both turned back to face him, he said, “‘Discussing’ is what got you two into this shit in the first place. Just have a couple of drinks and... whatever turns you on.”

Charles’ expression went from wary to wily in the span of a few seconds. He stood and directed all of his intense focus on Erik. “A game of chess, my dear?”

“In my room,” Erik shot back at once. “Not the library.”

Logan opened his mouth to point out that separate bedrooms had gone out of fashion in eighteen-something, but these two were finally communicating. Instead, he got up, figuring he should see them out — and lock the door to keep any more random people from showing up.

“As you wish.” Charles’ smile was free and open, almost innocent, until he licked his lips, and suddenly his mouth was X-rated.

That spurred Logan to say, “So, uh, I’ll tell Victor you two will come back next week?” as he pointedly opened the door.

They both looked over at him with identical frowns. “Victor?” Erik asked.

“Dr. Creed,” Logan corrected. _Professionalism_. This was why he hated being trapped in an office, even at thirty bucks an hour.

“Er...” Charles looked uncomfortably over at Erik, then back at Logan. “Our appointment was with a Dr. L. Geisinger.”

“Never heard of him,” Logan said with another shrug. “He another marriage counselor?”

Erik’s laugh sounded just a little vicious. “Conflict mediator.”

“You’re...” Charles’ eyes were wide, which made their blueness startling, especially against the returning pink of his cheeks. “You’re not him, are you?”

“Nope. I’m Victor’s half-brother,” he said, standing his ground at the door.

“And your specialty is...?” Erik asked. When he put his hand on Charles’ back to get him moving, Charles jumped slightly but leaned into the touch before heading for the door.

Logan grinned. “MMA fighting. I do computer work on the side.”

That made Charles stop in his tracks and gawp at Logan. “That’s” — he turned to Erik with a delighted smile — “amazing. See, Erik? This is what I’ve been saying. You can find genius and natural ability in the most unlikely places.”

“Who’re you calling ‘unlikely’, Professor?” Logan snapped reflexively. “I’m not the one who was too clueless to fuck his own fiance — especially one who looks like that, no matter how much of an ass he is.”

Charles made a noise like a hiccup and seemed to try to hide his smile. He turned to Erik and murmured, “All right, ‘genius’ was a stretch, but still. He’s not wrong on many levels.” He let his eyes trail down Erik’s body then back up again, a smirk tugging at his reddened lips.

Erik tried to stare down Logan, who wasn’t impressed. Well, not _that_ impressed. After a few cold seconds, Erik leaned down to Charles’ ear and said, just loudly enough for Logan to catch, “We’ll see who’s fucking whom, darling.”

“Right. Out. Now.” Charles nodded to Logan and took hold of Erik’s hand to tug him out the door. “Thank you, Logan. Have a good holiday.”

“Holi— Right, V-day,” Logan said, stepping out of their way. “Yeah, same to you.”

As the two of them headed across the waiting room, Erik smirked at Charles and asked, “Don’t you want to make a follow-up appointment?”

“If you want to come back and tell him how the ‘chess game’ went, I can’t stop you,” Charles answered, deadpan.

“Isn’t that what the handcuffs are for, darling?” Erik asked innocently.

“You had better hope not.” Charles’ voice was low and flinty, the smile on his face positively wicked. “I can think of far better uses.”

If Erik had a response — and Logan assumed he was too much of a shit not to — it was lost behind the closed hallway door. Logan followed so he could turn the lock. One successful counseling session didn’t mean he wanted to do this shit permanently. Definitely not for thirty bucks an hour.

 

~~~

 

The moment the bedroom door closed, Erik was on Charles, trapping him against the wall and unbuttoning the cardigan. In his haste, he tore one button free, but neither man so much as blinked as it bounced away to roll beneath the dresser. Erik ducked to get his mouth on Charles’ neck, and his hot kiss turned his words into an indistinct mumble.

Charles’ fingers threaded through Erik’s hair as he hummed questioningly, and Erik repeated himself, yet the only word audible the second time was, “want.” Charles sighed and shifted and hissed, or maybe he’d said the word “yes,” because Erik grunted and nipped his way up to Charles’ jaw. Charles tugged on Erik’s hair, pulling his head back far enough so they could look each other in the eye.

“You sure about this?” Charles’ voice was almost steady and very close to neutral, but he was short of breath already, and his eyes held an unfamiliar hunger.

“All these years, wasted,” Erik said, pulling the cardigan open so he could wreck Charles’ shirt buttons as well. He ducked to bite beneath Charles’ ear, then licked to soothe the sting. “But we’re still not opening the school to any brat with a ‘poor me’ story.”

“I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.” Charles slid his hands down Erik’s neck and torso and stopped at his belt buckle.

“Much, much better uses for your mouth,” Erik said, backing off so he could brush his fingers over Charles’ lips. “At least say we can skip the damned mediator.”

Charles smiled then nibbled at Erik’s fingers for a moment before saying, “It wasn’t as bad as you’d feared, though. Was it?”

Eyes fixed to Charles’ mouth, Erik said, “The man was a damned amateur. We should sue. I _will_ sue, if you don’t get your damned clothes off already.”

“Not until you kiss me.” Charles’ expression was heated and stern and indulgent, all at the same time, and his determination was undermined by the hard tug he gave Erik’s belt to unbuckle it.

Erik lifted his other hand so he could cup Charles’ jaw between his palms. He touched his thumb to Charles’ lower lip, running it back and forth. “It _is_ Valentine’s Day, if you go in for that sort of thing,” he said softly.

“Never have before.” Charles’ cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips to the pad of Erik’s thumb. His fingers slid under the hem of Erik’s turtleneck and clutched at his bare waist. “But there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Erik said, leaning in to touch his lips to Charles’. The kiss was soft, almost careful, in contrast to how frantically they’d been undressing one another. And when it broke, Erik looked at Charles with something like wonder in his eyes. “I suppose there is.”

Charles’s face clouded over for just a moment as he pulled Erik’s hips against his own. “You know I’m not actually a virgin, don’t you?”

Erik laughed, and though he didn’t roll his eyes, it was a close thing. “I don’t want a virgin. I want you.”

“Good.” Charles’ smile was radiant, and his eyes were bright as the summer sky. “Then tell me _how_ you want me. Just because it’s a first doesn’t mean it can’t be perfect.”

“No pressure,” Erik said with a quiet huff.

Charles slid his arms around Erik’s waist and held him close. “Well, I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be, but if it’s not, we have all the time in the world to get it right.”


End file.
